One month and growing.

It's incredible to me that Annika was one month old on Tuesday. It seems like I can't have had her for more than a week! I think lack of sleep contributes to that. But she has grown so much.
Time never was a tangible element in my life before, even with Seth being out to sea. Now I can practically feel it running underneath my feet. She's grown one and a half pounds at least, and I'm sure she's added on at least three inches maybe more. She's cooing and gurgling and looking around. I've gotten several grins that could be traced to neither gas nor food, and once or twice we think she's laughed or at least made some expression of approval or contentment that sounded like a laugh. When I look at her now, I'm struck with the feeling that I'll never have back that little baby who did nothing but snuggle in my arms. She's one month old and already I can regret the passing of part of her life. I can wish that something hadn't changed.

I suppose part of my regret is occasioned by the fact that Seth isn't here to see all this. He's not going to know the thrill of the first smile, the first laugh, the first eye contact, the first sound that isn't "aah-waaaa." Everything that happens now is one more thing he misses, and I can't grab that first smile or that cute gurgle and push it back insider her until her father comes home. Once it happens, it's gone, and it's one less smile he'll get to see. The person who has had a full night's sleep will point out that smiles are not a strictly rationed commodity, that missing her smiles now does not meant that he actually will get fewer smiles over the course of a lifetime. But when each smile is a masterpiece, missing one smile is still a great loss.